The Man I Never Knew
by Catnatural
Summary: Instead of being captivated by the milky white skin that was being displayed in front of him so tantalizingly, Harry couldn't help but focus on the bruises marring Malfoy's otherwise perfect skin. They weren't your usual lovemaking bruises, at least in Harry's opinion. Just who was hurting Draco Malfoy? Warning - domestic abuse, swearing, possible nsfw material.
1. Prologue

**The Man I Never Knew.**

**Prologue.**

A few years after the war, Harry was lost and utterly clueless. Firmly believing that he wouldn't live to see his eighteenth birthday had resulted in him failing to plan for his future, and now he was paying for it. Everyone he knew, his friends and ex-classmates had all flourished post-Hogwarts – Ron was climbing his way steadily up the ladder of the Ministry, becoming a successful Auror and Hermione was constantly petitioning for some rights or other, whether they be for humans or magical creatures. They had gotten hitched not long after the war, declaring that they couldn't wait any longer, and they weren't the only ones. Luna and Neville had surprised everyone with a whirlwind romance and a quick engagement, and they seemed to be genuinely happy with each other, and Ginny was now engaged to Dean Thomas…or so Harry had heard. I wasn't like he had spent a lot of time over at the Weasley's since his break-up with Ginny two years ago. He just didn't feel as if he was welcome these days.

With a resigned sigh, Harry fixed an almost bored gaze upon the clock resting on the mantle, willing time to pass. But still, it was only just after seven o'clock, and thus, far too early to even contemplate going to bed. And he'd already exhausted the library of Grimmauld place, as well as scrubbing the place from top to bottom, with Kreacher's help, in a desperate attempt to make it somewhat habitable. He briefly contemplated visiting some old school friends, but seeing how successful they had become, how much they were enjoying their lives, left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, and he always had to make excuses to leave before he said something that he would regret.

No matter what he chose to do, however, he knew one thing for sure. He needed out of this house, before the groove in the armchair became a permanent one, and the very sight of sunshine became nothing but a memory.

~/~

A short while later, he was somewhere in the middle of a seemingly never-ending queue that winded around the corner of various buildings, before coming to a stop at Knockturn Alley's newest Wizarding club. He didn't dare enter Diagon Alley just yet – despite the war having had ended a few years prior, Harry's celebrity status unfortunately had not decreased, and any time he set foot outside, he was bombarded with autograph requests and photographs. Thus, Knockturn Alley was as close as he could remain attached to the Wizarding community, without resorting to infiltrating the Muggle one just yet. He may be lonely, but he wasn't that desperate. Yet.

So far, he hadn't seen anybody familiar, and no-one had yet noticed his face – which was hopefully a result of some meticulous grooming and a somewhat effective glamour. It remained like this for a moment, and he shuffled forward ever so slowly as the queue gradually shortened, and finally he was inside the building, the loud boom of music washing over him, causing him to smile softly. Here, he could lose himself in the beat, in the words and in the grinding of bodies. Here, he could hide away from expectations and rumours, and just be Harry. Weaving his way through the mass of writhing bodies, he slipped into a nearby corridor, merely scanning the space for now, in case he suddenly had to get out. It didn't hurt to be too careful when one was Harry Potter.

And that's when he heard it. A faint whimper and then a following bang. His curiosity getting the better of him, he crept forward, hearing what sounded like an argument between two men, one voice louder than the other, and he turned the corner with the intention to intervene, before the two men turned away, the smaller blonde one held in a tight grip by the taller, darker male, who seemed to be physically dragging the former male onto the dance floor. Cursing his inquisitive nature, Harry immediately followed and then promptly lost the two males in the sea of people. Scowling petulantly, Harry huffed and made his way to the bar, and had just settled down on an abandoned bar-stool when the mouthful he had just taken, exploded out of his lips as he blinked in shock at the sight before him.

Out there, in the sea of writhing, grinding bodies were Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, looking far too close to be allowed out in public, in Harry's opinion, yet he found himself unable to tear away his eyes from the rather erotic sight before him. Malfoy's back was pressed against Zabini's chest, the latter male's fingers gripped tightly onto the blonde's hips as he swayed them in time to the beat of the music. As Harry watched, Zabini slowly slid up Malfoy's shirt to reveal a thin torso, and that's when the disgust set in.

Instead of being captivated by the milky white skin that was being displayed in front of him so tantalizingly, Harry couldn't help but focus on the bruises marring Malfoy's otherwise perfect skin. They weren't your usual lovemaking bruises, at least in Harry's opinion. And that was evidently clear now that the two ex-Slytherins were a couple, or there was some very unresolved sexual tension occurring in front of Harry. But then, upon closer inspection – and then Harry wondered when he had left his bar-stool, as he made his way through the clubbers- they weren't even normal bruises at all, unless one associates boot-prints on the skin with good sex, which unless Harry was still that naïve, that definitely wasn't the case. And then Harry noted the look on Malfoy's face as he danced with Zabini, recognising the fear in his eyes and the tension in his thin frame. Was he scared of Zabini? Was he being hurt by him?

~/~

Despite Harry's best intentions, noble in his eyes, to intervene, he knew that he had to be careful. He and Malfoy had never got on (and wasn't that the understatement of the century?), therefore it was highly unlikely the other male would willingly spill his secrets to Harry of all people, and that was providing he could even get the blonde alone for all of five minutes. As Harry stood there, he had seen Zabini's grip tighten around Malfoy's waist, who in turn grimaced before automatically nuzzling backwards as if that was the reaction that was expected of him. And then to every person who dared approach them to ask for a dance, Zabini visibly gritted his teeth and growled at them until they quickly left, the fear in Malfoy's eyes increasing throughout the night.

Praying then, that his disguise would work well enough for his plan to succeed, Harry, like the others, made his way through the dancers and approached the couple with a flirty smirk, eyeing them up and down like he had seen the others do. "Care for a dance?" He murmured huskily, inwardly allowing his eyes to slowly dart between the two men, judging their reactions. And it happened like it had previously – Zabini growled and tightened his grip around the blonde, Malfoy winced and averted his eyes. The only difference this time was that Zabini shot Malfoy a look of pure loathing, before harshly tugging him off of the dance floor and into a nearby corridor, Harry instantly following before their shadows had left the room. Just as he skidded to a halt suddenly, he heard a faint bang and then a soft yelp seconds later. Just managing to separate their voices, he focused on the conversation in front of him:

"What the fuck did I tell you not to do before we left the house, Draco?" Zabini hissed, voice tense with rage, and as Harry peeked around the corner, he saw Zabini slam Malfoy against the wall, glaring down at him. "What were my exact orders?"

"N-not to-" Malfoy stammered out, trembling as he shrunk back from the fierce glare upon Zabini's face, eyes widening. "Y-you-"

"Oh, for _fuck's _sakes, Draco! And you wonder why I'm the only person who will have your sorry arse!" With that, he grabbed the smaller boy's neck, looking as if he would dearly love to do nothing more than crush the blonde's windpipe. "I _told _you that you were _mine_ and that you were not to even _look _at anyone else under _any _circumstances! Do you remember that little conversation?"

Malfoy nodded jerkily, his fingers trembling by his side as he cringed, making to turn away. Almost instantly, his chin was gripped tightly and his head was whipped around harshly to face that of Zabini's, any protests vanishing in that moment.

"Apparently you've forgotten all about it! Are you such a _slut _that you will go up to anybody in a bar? Beg for them to fuck you? Am I not enough?" Zabini growled, spitting with rage as he pressed Malfoy against the wall, lifting him up off the ground as the other male kicked out weakly. "You know fine well that no-one else would even dare _touch _Death Eater Scum like yourself! I pity you, Draco, I really do, and you would do well to apologise, or I'll leave you here to the _mercy _of everyone. What do you think they would do to an ex-Death Eater?"

Malfoy dropped to the floor suddenly as Zabini relinquished his grip, and the blonde immediately shifted onto his knees, the very picture of submission. "S-sorry, Sir." He whispered, and to Harry's horror, actually kissed the tips of the other male's boots. However, this action seemed to somewhat please Zabini, or at least that's what Harry thought until he backhanded Malfoy across the face, sneering as the blonde let out a wail of pain as he immediately reached up to clutch at his face.

"Now, come on, whore. You've still got to be punished for your disobedience. I think a few _Crucio_'s ought to make you more obedient, don't you think?" Zabini cooed and scooped Malfoy into his arms, apparating out of the building before Harry could even move forward a step.

Malfoy's faint cry of fear echoed in his mind for days after that.

~/~

**A/N: ****I'm back! I have a few other stories planned – some even partially written, but this one wouldn't leave me alone! I have some of it written out in my head, but I have yet to put it down onto paper, so please be patient! I'm planning on this becoming a chaptered fic, although I haven't yet decided on the actual number of chapters.**

**Also: WARNINGS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS - domestic violence, swearing, possibility of NSFW material. More warnings will be added if and when I come across them.**

**Please let me know what you think?**

**Thank you for reading x**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: **I am astounded by the amount of people reading this fic! Thank you so much – you've made my week a lot better! And I apologise for the wait for this chapter – I've just finished my last set of exams, so I'm now free to write!**

**Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows that I've received and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or anything remotely associated with it – that all belongs to the lovely JK Rowling. –bows-**

**WARNINGS: Swearing, domestic abuse, nsfw material.**

**Also : Italic signifies a flashback scene. I'm not sure whether I'll use them much, but there's one in this chapter.**

**Chapter 1 – Dinner and a Show.**

Despite his best attempts, Harry failed to rid his mind of Malfoy's faint cry, and even he knew that it was a plea for help. But then, he believed that no-one dared to help the blonde these days, not only because of Zabini's presence, but because of Malfoy's past. He couldn't imagine that anyone wanted to actually _help_ an ex-Death Eater, especially one as well-known as a Malfoy – in fact, Harry would bet the contents of his vault in Gringotts that many would cheer Zabini on, or, at the very least look away. Harry wondered what Zabini's neighbours thought, or perhaps their Silencing Charms really were that brilliant. There'd certainly been no scandal involving the Malfoys, nor the Zabinin's in the _Prophet_ _– _at least lately.

So yet again, Harry was cursing his treacherous mind for interfering with matters that did not concern him, as he made a fire-call to Hermione and Ron's house, praying that at least one, if not the both of them, were home. If not, Harry was quickly running out of ideas. Hermione possessed the most brilliant mind he knew of, quick on her feet and always able to brush her personal feelings aside in order to do what was best for the common good.

"Hermione?" He called out tentatively, emerald eyes scanning the living-room in front of him, looking for a flash of ginger, or brown, when a bushy mane appeared that could only belong to Hermione. "Hey! It's Har-"

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione immediately demanded, dropping to her knees and fixing him with a motherly glare, "Are you hurt?" It seemed that time with Molly Weasley was beginning to rub off on Hermione – next she would be baking obscene amounts of food and delivering them to Harry's door, claiming that he needed 'fattening up' – something Molly had done when he and Ginny had been an item. But of course, that was no longer the case, and despite missing the motherly attention from her, Harry relished his new found independence.

"I'm fine – stop worrying. I just…wondered if I could ask you something." He admitted, suddenly ducking his head. Unable to find a reason why, he felt like he was betraying Malfoy's confidence by asking this, especially from Hermione. If the blonde ever found out that Harry had confided in her, he would more than likely be livid and would refuse to accept Harry's help – but Harry really could not think of any other options, and he honestly wanted to help Malfoy. He disregarded their past history and rivalry, deeming it as nothing more than a childhood phase. Oh, he knew Malfoy probably stilled loathed him, but Harry had grown up in the past few years, and he was more than willing to show Malfoy just how mature he could be.

"…Harry?" Her panicked voice broke into his thoughts – he had clearly been quieter longer than he'd thought. And indeed, Hermione's eyes were wide with panic, and thus he was quick to placate her.

"It's Malfoy." He blurted out, quickly ploughing on with an explanation as a result of her incredulous look. When he had finally finished relaying everything he knew about the blonde, he was somewhat shocked to find a look of horror upon Hermione's face, her lip pulled back between her teeth.

"He's being hurt? Oh, Harry…as much as I hated Malfoy in school, I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. You said you talked to them? What happened? Do you know if it definitely is Zabini?" Hermione's brown eyes flickered with increasing concern, despite who their conversation was about. Her desire to help overran any other emotion in that moment, her thirst for knowledge and her need for justice following behind in a close second. Someone needed their help, and she would do everything possible in her power to grant that request.

Harry nodded reluctantly then, absently noting Hermione's use of the past tense when talking about her feelings towards Malfoy. But then, she probably wasn't the only one – the war had been a while ago now, and maintaining all these childish conflicts was just far too tiring for Harry. And he hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in a while before the events at the club…

~/~

_It was a month after the Battle of Hogwarts, after the seemingly never-ending fight that ended Voldemort's life and rid the Wizarding community of his presence, although not his influence, forever more. The 'Golden trio' were sitting around the fire in Grimmauld Place, a somewhat serene silence having had fallen upon them moments before – almost a welcomed dream after the chaos and noise associated with the final battle. Hermione broke the silence by talking about her future plans, her boyfriend nodding along in agreement as Harry simply sat there, gazing into the fiery depths flickering in front of him, lost deep within his own thoughts. What did he want to do with his life?_

_A short while later, they had all agreed to 'let their hair down' in Diagon Alley, not knowing that they would later dread their decision for many reasons. They all showered and changed into some clean clothes – Hermione and Ron taking longer, but Harry had a feeling that they were sharing…cue the shudder._

_Before long, the trio had apparated to a deserted alleyway, a little away from the main streets, where they decided against using Glamour charms for now – surely Harry would be allowed to shop to his heart's content without being bombarded by the public, they reasoned, rather naively. The moment they stepped around the corner, shouts and cries of delight resounded around them, followed by a stampede of eager feet, their owners shoving and grabbing at Harry, until he couldn't take it anymore and he apparated away, followed by Ron and Hermione almost immediately._

_Deciding that it might be better if they split up, Harry went off on his own whilst Ron and Hermione went for a date, he supposed – they were finally free to do so, and he wouldn't begrudge them their happiness. Brushing away the jealously that arose, he didn't even have time to formulate a plan of action before he promptly collided with another person, all bones and sharp ankles, causing the two of them to fall in an undignified heap onto the cobbled ground of the alley. Scrambling to his feet, Harry held out his hand to aid the other person in getting up, before his jaw dropped and his eyes bulged._

_Malfoy. Draco Malfoy gazing up at him with impossibly wide silver eyes, pale lips parted as he mouthed undecipherable words, before he was hauled to his feet by a much darker hand, its owner glaring down at the cowering blonde with an expression of intense loathing._

"_Watch where you're going, Potter." Blaise Zabini hissed maliciously, dusting the smaller Slytherin down before dragging him away, leaving Harry to stand in the middle of the street with a bewildered expression flickering across his face._

_Only later, upon reconsideration of the strange interaction, would Harry note that Draco Malfoy hadn't uttered a word, and only then would Harry realise that Malfoy had been frozen in terror – not because of Harry's presence like Harry first thought, but because of Zabini's. Harry wondered why he hadn't seen it then – the air was rife with the anger and bitterness that the two Slytherin's relationship was built upon, and it was almost suffocating to anyone on the outside of it._

~/~

Harry had come up with a plan – it wasn't a particularly great one, in fact, in his long history of spur of the moment actions, this was probably one of his worst ideas, complete with every possible scenario in which everything could go wrong, and knowing his luck, probably would. He was going to befriend Draco Malfoy. It sounded far more professional than his initial plan of 'Saving-Draco-Malfoy-from-Blaise-Zabini-so-that-I' ve-Met-my-Daily-Saving-People-Quota- which was far too long-winded and quite frankly, sounded rather preposterous. So, operation Befriend Draco Malfoy was put into the works, and Harry could only hope that he wouldn't screw this up. Someone's life was potentially on the line after all.

And here, he wasn't being dramatic. He knew all too well just how abuse worked – oh, so the Dursely's hadn't hit him or left any scars or bruises, but he'd experienced ten years or so at least of their verbal abuse and constant humiliation. So, on some level, he could relate with Malfoy, but he figured that he wouldn't care about that.

He wasn't exactly sure how to carry out his plan, but he figured that the first step would be to approach the blonde and let him know that he knew of everything that was occurring. That he didn't judge him or think him weak, and that he was there to help. And if Malfoy wanted to leave, then Harry would be there, helping him with whatever he needed. But then…if he refused to leave, Harry didn't know what he could do. Would dragging him out of there, coercing him to leave an abusive relationship fall under the category of kidnapping? He had a feeling that it would.

~/~

A week had passed. A long week in which nothing had happened, nothing out of the ordinary anyway, and Harry was quite bored, not yet used to the mundane tasks of everyday life as a result of his chaotic childhood. Once again, he'd exhausted Grimmauld Place's library, and had even ventured out to the local shops to browse, and had spent a few Galleons on random bits and pieces that he didn't actually need. On day six of his boring week, Harry _finally _stumbled across Draco Malfoy, in a small café of all places. For once, the blonde seemed to be on his own, but he didn't act like it. If the way he flinched when the barista talked to him, and the way silver eyes darted around fearfully indicated anything, it was as if Malfoy had to act on his best behaviour at all times, in case word got back to Zabini. Harry had initially considered applying to become an Auror but he wanted a more peaceful life (although the one he was currently experiencing was a little too boring for his liking), so he had turned them down, but that hadn't stopped him researching the qualifications desired for the profession, as well what tasks he would performing had he accepted.

Luckily, he'd kept the paperwork under his bed, and last night, he'd had a quick scan through, his eyes falling on the domestic abuse section of the booklet. Everything outlined there fitted Malfoy perfectly – as it if had been written about him, not for other victims – he flinched continuously and hunched in on himself; as if he were making himself as small as possible in order not to attract attention. Thus, Harry couldn't help himself – and later on, he would resist the tempting urge to whack his head off of the wall for his stupid, impulsive actions. He strode over to Malfoy and promptly dropped into the empty seat opposite him, flashing the blonde an encouraging smile. "Hey, Malfoy."

There was no answer. If it wasn't for the way Malfoy's painfully thin shoulders tensed, Harry would have thought that he had gone temporarily deaf. Harry eyed the boy's fancy coffee, before calling the waitress over and ordering an Espresso – he may as well be comfortable whilst he interrogated the prickly blonde. "How are you?" He continued without disregard to the uneasy shifting that Malfoy was now doing, emerald eyes widening in surprise as Malfoy muttered something. "What's that?"

"Go away." Draco hissed, screwed up his eyes, his long, thin fingers trembling violently as they clutched at the mug, causing some of the liquid to slosh over the side. "Please."

It was the 'please' that done it for Harry – the way it was so softly spoken, sounding as if Malfoy was begging. Harry had never heard the blonde utter that phrase in all the time he had known him, or to even sound like that, and it was that revelation that caused Harry to lower his voice, his eyes focusing on a purple bruise around Malfoy's neck. "I know what's going on, Malfoy. Let me help you."

He tensed further then, as if that were physically possible, practically vibrating in his seat as his breath hitched. "Please go." He repeated once more, clenching his fists as he glanced around him warily. "I d-don't know what you w-want…go away…"

Absently wondering whether the stutter was a new thing for it certainly hadn't been there before, Harry reached out to brush Malfoy's hand, cringing when the boy flinched and jumped back, panting harshly. "I'm sorry…really. Just…I know what he's doing to you –" Cue Malfoy's pained gasp "-And I want to help. No-one deserves that, Malfoy."

Seeing the inner turmoil that Malfoy was going through, the way he trembled so and chewed his lip, was truly a horrific sight, and all Harry wanted to do was grab him and leave, wanting to take him away from all of this. "I c-can't. You d-don't…stop it. Leave me alone." He hissed fiercely and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away from Harry, twirling on the spot and apparating away, leaving Harry sitting at the table with his not very pleasant Espresso.

~/~

"Where the fuck are you, Draco?" Blaise's deep voice boomed and echoed throughout the apartment, nearly causing Draco to drop the tray as he jumped violently. "That dinner better be on the table in five minutes, or you're in so much trouble!"

Scrambling forward, Draco pushed himself out of the kitchen and into the dining room, lowering the meal in front of his boyfriend, waiting for further commands. He cringed as Blaise speared a potato and nibbled curiously at it, before spitting it out on his plate. "What the fuck is this?"

"I…I" Draco stammered, fear increasing instantly as his entire body locked in fear.

"This is _disgusting_! You've had all day to prepare and this is the best that you can do? Explain yourself!" Blaise hissed maliciously and fixed a fierce gaze on the trembling, frail figure before him, demanding to know what exactly was going on here.

"I- I had to go to D-Diagon A-Alley to get the supplies a-and there were q-qu-" Draco began before a growl from Blaise caused him to still, mouthing helplessly as he gazed at him with increasing horror. Seeing his boyfriend's fist clenched near his chin with a piece of parchment scrunched up in his grip, Draco gulped.

"Be that as it may, you're not telling me the truth, are you, Draco? What were you _really _doing in Diagon Alley, you filthy whore? Don't lie to me, or your punishment will be worse, baby." Blaise's voice was dangerously low, laced with the threat of following through on his words. "Who did you see?"

And then that was it. The moment that Draco knew that no matter what he said – he was going to be nursing some bruises later. Depending on what he said and how he worded it was of the utmost importance here, for it was have a direct result as to the severity of his injuries. Taking a series of deep, shaky breaths that failed to calm him, Draco whispered hoarsely, "I w-went for a c-coffee a-as the d-delivery h-hadn't arrived yet…for the potatoes." He explained, feeling like his voice was barely audible over the intense pounding of his heart. "I was a-alone until P-Potter c-came over a-and-"

"_Potter_?" Blaise spat, standing up and promptly upturning the dining room table, the contents of it scattering around them, splattering against the walls. "Harry fucking Potter? You mean to tell me that I get this awful meal-" He gestured to the mess around him with a shaking fist, "Because you spent the enitre fucking day sitting flirting with Potter?" He grabbed Draco and slammed him against the wall then, revelling in the way that the blonde tensed and let out a pained whimper. "You're _mine_, you stupid idiot. And no-one will get you, not if I have anything to say about it!" He hissed maliciously and threw him to the ground, placing his entire weight onto the boy's frail wrist, smirking when he heard the following crack and wail of pain.

"If I can't have you, then no-one can." Blaise finished with a dangerously low voice, and after that, Draco knew nothing except pain and agony, his screams ignored by his boyfriend who continued to use him to vent out his frustrations.

Cursing when Draco's body went limp, Blaise threw him against the wall and apparated out with the desire to get drunk, knowing that he could always resume where he left off upon his return – at least Draco might be awake then, so that he continue marking his skin until he was nothing but one enormous bruise.

~/~

A few hours later, when darkness was slowly giving way to the rising sun, Harry Potter was awoken by a faint scratching against his window, and he quickly extricated himself from his tangled mass of sheets, and padded over to the window. Letting the owl in, he unfolded the parchment, frowning in bewilderment at the unfamiliar scrawl, before his heart seemed to stop as he focused on the one phrase that he thought he would never see.

_Help me, Potter._

~/~

**A/N: ****Mwuhahaha. I'm not even sorry for the cliff-hanger. I'm planning on making each chapter longer that the previous one, so I hope that that's okay!**

**Thank you reading! X**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The long awaited next chapter! I swear I had planned to have this up earlier, but real life, as usual got in the way! Also – Tumblr. It's a sick addiction, I know, but if I never answer or you just want to pester me, my URL is: **hiddeninthemanor**. Or if you want my personal, it's: **catnatural**.

And thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far! It's amazing that so many of you have read this, but that so many of you have taken the time to tell me that you are reading and enjoying – thank you!

Thank you to the following reviewers: _Kitty – _help is on its way. _ Limey _– Thank you! I'm glad that you're enjoying it! _Angel-Miyu _and _Torilynneb _– More is here, and much more is planned; thank you both for reviewing! _Kasumi Wind _– No, I really am not sorry about the cliff-hanger…please don't kill me after this one, 'kay? _Kagomya_ – The update is finally here! Sorry about the wait! And _KsandraMallan – _Wahey! My first stalker! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

And thank you to everyone else who's reading it!

**WARNINGS**: Swearing, domestic abuse, nsfw , a very _brief _mention of homophobia – it's a little important to the plot, but not essential as of yet. I still feel like it's important to mention it, however.

**Chapter 2 – The Ferret Awakens.**

Harry will never know how he managed to successfully apparate to Malfoy's flat without splinching himself, nor will he ever know how he managed to find the location of said flat without losing his temper. After barging his way into the Ministry, he had searched almost blindly for the appropriate documentation, resembling a bull in a china shop. Somehow, he'd made it, and in the years to come, he would marvel over one of the rare moments in his life that incorporated some element of planning ahead, and how maybe Hermione had been right all of these years when she'd complained that he was too impulsive.

He hammered on the door, uncaring as to whether or not he would be confronted by Zabini, knowing if it was him who was to answer the door, Harry wouldn't even use his wand to show the other male just how livid he was with him. Hammering his face into the floor sounded even too good for him, but Harry was confident he could come up with the appropriate punishment should the need arise.

Met with silent, Harry let out a low growl, the letter Malfoy had sent firmly clenched in his left hand, as he used his right to pull out his wand. With a murmured _Alohamora_, the dark-haired male slipped through the doorway, before promptly drawing to a halt as he was met with the truly horrific sight in front of him. Wincing as his feet crunched over some shattered glass, Harry side-stepped in and trotted through the hallway into the living-room, where he instantly gagged. From his position in the centre of the room, he could see the upturned table in the dining room, the remnants of a meal splattered across the wooden panelled wall complete with shattered dishes and a torn table-cloth. Following the trail of food and what looked suspiciously like blood trails, Harry examined the bloodied fingerprints pressed into doorframes before stumbling across a tiny little owl.

"Hello there…you're the owl who brought me the letter, aren't you?" He observed whilst patting said owl's feathered head, his panic increasing the longer that he was faced with a chilling silence. That, coupled with the worryingly copious amounts of blood smeared around him in the various rooms caused Harry to briefly contemplate the Ministry, but then, would they help out a known ex-Death Eater, and an openly homosexual one at that? Oh, they were _fine _with the Boy-Who-Lived being gay, but anyone else? Why, that was a press scandal, of course! When Draco Malfoy had been spotted kissing Blaise Zabini outside an ice-cream shop in Paris a while back, it was on the front page and had resulted in a public outcry as well as many claims of disgust at revulsion at the two boys 'flaunting themselves in such a manner, and in public nonetheless'. Harry had no time for people like that – he had far more important things to worry about than the many faces of the public who continuously contradicted themselves with their changing views.

Hearing a gargled cough nearby, sounding horrifyingly and suspiciously like someone was choking on their own blood, Harry lifted his wand a little higher and stepped around the corner to what looked like the bedroom, fighting the urge to throw up at the sight before him. Lying in a huddled heap on the floor was Draco Malfoy, dressed in nothing more than a pair of blood-soaked boxer shorts, every inch of his milky white skin littered with bruises and blood. Cursing loudly, Harry strode forward and dropped to his knees, fighting the urge to reach out, but he did not for fear of spooking the other male and thus aggravating his injuries.

"Draco? Draco…its Harry Potter." Harry whispered soothingly, his panic increasing as the blonde did nothing to show that he'd noticed Harry's arrival. "Can you please open your eyes for me, Draco? It's just me here, you're quite safe, I promise."

"P-Potter…?" Draco finally croaked out and cracked puffy, bloodied eyes open to glance up at Harry, his frail, broken body trembling violently.

"Yeah, Draco, it's just me. You're safe." Harry repeated like a desperate mantra, emerald eyes roaming the body in front of him and mentally cataloguing his injuries before his heart sank. There was no way he could take care of this himself, not with his very limited medical knowledge – he would probably do more harm than good. "Draco…you're really hurt, you need to go to St. Mungo's, alright? I'll call for- " He broke off then and eyed the other male with increasing panic as he began to sob and shake his head, reaching out with a gnarled, smashed fist. "Draco?"

"Not…Mungo's….Dark Mark." He choked out with a pained grunt, his bruised eyelids failing to open very far. "Hate me."

"I don't hate you, Draco. I don't know if I ever truly did." Harry sighed in resignation and ever so slowly scooped the other male into his arms, frowning in concern at how light he was. He could feel and see Draco's ribs and it was that revelation that caused him to pull the blonde a little closer until he was cradling him against his chest. "I'll take you to my place then, just for now, alright? Is there anything you need from here?" He glanced around, not all too willing to rummage through the blonde's possessions – Zabini could come back at any time, after all. But then, Draco had been stripped of his pride and his dignity, so the least Harry could do would be to honour any requests that he might have.

"Wand." Draco whispered into Harry's neck , his unbroken fingers clutching at Harry's cloak as he flirted with unconsciousness. "Just that."

Nodding, Harry summoned the wand and pocketed it, glanced around once more, before apparating to Grimmauld Place, clutching the blonde against him.

~/~

Draco passed out the moment Harry apparated him, his frail body lolling in his arms, covering the other male's cloak in blood. Scrunching up his nose as the coppery scent hit his nostrils, Harry lowered Draco onto his bed, before summoning a bowl of water, a sponge and some disinfectant. Feeling rather uncomfortable at the task he was about to undertake, but relieved that Draco was passed out for it, Harry began to gently wash the blood from Draco's torso, gasping at the sight of the previously milky white skin now marred with deep welts and scars, boot-prints and bruises as well as what looked like a few random bite-marks. Swallowing his revulsion as well as the intense desire to murder Zabini in the most gruesome way possible, Harry gazed at the unconscious face on his former rival, and sighed.

He looked so young, and so innocent – two words that Harry would have never used against him until now. But then…hadn't Draco always been innocent in his own way – used by his parents and the dark side to fight a war in which he was really too young to ever have been a part of in the first place? Why, he was like Harry in a way…used to carry out tasks that no child should ever have to consider, never-mind undertaking. And despite having survived it all, if Draco was anything like Harry, he surely carried his own mental scars as well as long nights plagued with remembering it all.

Methodically and robotically scrubbing the dirt, grime and blood from the skin, it wasn't long before Harry eventually finished, banishing the cloth and water, before chewing his lip. He'd left the blonde in his boxers due to his discomfort to remove any more of Draco's dignity, knowing that when he finally awoke, he would be less than pleased. Harry knew all too well how it worked as he'd learned from his readings – Draco would more than likely be defensive and terrified, as well as subdued and untrusting. Harry feared that all their old rivalries would resurface but he simply couldn't turn Draco away! Not after everything.

Eventually deeming the blonde to be as clean as Harry could make him, he covered him up with an old, frayed blanket and tucked it up under his bony shoulders, absently noting how like this (despite all of his injuries and his less-than-healthy appearance, Draco could be considered a very handsome male. Cursing his libido for its impeccably _awful _timing, Harry sighed dramatically and shuffled out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar in order to give Draco some privacy, but also so that Harry could hear if any problems arose.

~/~

The nightmares started a couple of hours later, when Harry was curled up on his armchair with his Auror's notes, scanning them with eager eyes in the category of 'Domestic Abuse: When a Loved One Suddenly Turns'. Confirming his earlier suspicions, Harry was intrigued to note that many victims of domestic abuse chose to return to their partners, even after being taken away from the home, simply because they claimed that the partner loved them and no-one else would. Harry didn't really know Draco enough to agree with that or form his own theory as to the other two's volatile relationship, but that didn't stop him pondering over the possibilities. After the war, the Malfoy's had been stripped of all of their material possessions and a large proportion of their money, leaving them with the bare minimum and that was barely enough to survive of. Lucius Malfoy had of course gone to Azkaban, although it was never quite clear as to Narcissa's fate – rumour was that she had gone insane after Lucius's departure, and Harry could well imagine being cooped up in that Manor for long periods at a time was enough to drive anyone to insanity. It certainly explained most of Draco's behaviour at any rate.

But why Zabini? That was one thing that Harry's mind couldn't comprehend. The two had been best friends at Hogwarts, but they'd never seemed _that _close – simply friends in Harry's eyes. But then again, Harry was never the most observant being, and he had been rather preoccupied back in his schooldays, so it was high likely that he'd missed everything. That lead onto a few more questions – if Draco and Zabini had been a couple at Hogwarts – had Zabini been violent then? Or did the abuse start up later on, and if so, why had Draco stayed with him? Surely someone like Draco; an ex-Death Eater with no money and no qualifications had _some _options? Harry couldn't be sure and the only way to find out was to await said blonde's awakening…which from the sounds in the next room was much sooner than Harry had perceived.

A soon as a faint strangled wail echoed through the wall, Harry was on his feet instantly, his hand curled around the doorknob as he called out softly, "Malfoy? It's me, can I come in?" He hesitated then, upon hearing no response bar an intake of breath, and he pushed the door open, his heart sinking at the sight before him. Draco was pressed up against the headboard, trembling violently with the sheets clutched up to his chin and tears were continuously streaming down his pale, bony cheeks. Fixing Harry with a look of terror, that quickly morphed into one of pure loathing, the blonde choked out, "W-what did you do, Potter?"

"What did I do?" Harry repeated, sounding quite perplexed. Perhaps Draco had been hit on the head – an area Harry had forgotten to examine earlier. He made to move forward, but stilled when Draco flinched violently and hunched in on himself.

"W-why am I nearly naked and in your bed? Where's B-Blaise? Oh…I am in so much t-trouble…" He moaned and buried his face in his hands, sniffing pitifully.

"Zabini nearly murdered you, you idiot! I saved you!"

"W-what? He…no!" Draco screeched loudly, causing Harry to wince at the sheer volume of the blonde's hysterical tone. "He l-loves me a-and-"

Holding up a hand, Harry stilled Draco's stuttering, eyeing him incredulously. "Are you really that stupid, Draco? He uses you as a fucking punch bag, and you _honestly _think that he _loves_ you? You deserve better than- what are you doing? Lie back down before you fall down!"

"N-no!" Draco snapped defiantly, staggering forward on wobbly knees to prod Harry in the chest, swaying from side to side. "G-give me my clothes and…and t-take me home!" Flinching then, he shuffled backwards and slumped back onto the bed, trembling as if the few moves had exhausted him of all his energy. "P-please…"

"Draco…" Harry sighed softly and dropped to his knees, lowering himself to the smaller male's level. "You don't have to lie to me, or hide things from me. I know _exactly _what he's doing to you, like I told you the other day." He hesitated then as the blonde deliberately averted his eyes and pulled the sheets over his bony torso, clearly hiding his skin from Harry's gaze. After a moment, he turned to Harry with impossibly wide eyes and opened his mouth, tears gathering in his silver eyes. It was obvious that he was about to speak, but Harry never did find out what he wanted to say, for at the moment Ron and Hermione burst into the room, Hermione's eyes bulging wide as she let out a faint squeak, and Ron promptly dropped the large box he was holding in his hand.

After a long, awkward silence, the red-head whirled to face Harry, his jaw clenched as an expression of disbelief flickered across his face. "Erm…Harry? You are aware that there's a bruised and battered ferret hogging your bed, right? I've not gone completely mental, have I?"

~/~

**A/N: ****Can that be classed as a cliff-hanger? Mwuhahaha. I don't think so, but hey. Who knows? Thank you for reading, and again, I am so sorry for the late update! Exams and work and real life…such evil things, aren't they?**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **** I am so sorry for the long wait - real life sucks! My laptop decided to die so I got a new one and then Microsoft Word wouldn't upload. As well as that I had my Graduation...I should stop making excuses, eh? I've tried to make it longer than the previous chapters as an apology of sorts!**

**And thank you so much to everyone who's read, reviewed and favourited so far! It makes me smile to see all these notifications and gives me a kick up the rear to get a move on with the writing!**

**WARNINGS:**** Homophobia,**** swearing, domestic abuse, nsfw**** material. You know, the usual, hehe.**

**Chapter 3 – The Ferret, the Otter and the Weasel.**

_Previously:_

_He hesitated then as the blonde deliberately averted his eyes and pulled the sheets over his bony torso, clearly hiding his skin from Harry's gaze. After a moment, he turned to Harry with impossibly wide eyes and opened his mouth, tears gathering in his silver eyes. It was obvious that he was about to speak, but Harry never did find out what he wanted to say, for at the moment Ron and Hermione burst into the room, Hermione's eyes bulging wide as she let out a faint squeak, and Ron promptly dropped the large box he was holding in his hand._

_After a long, awkward silence, the red-head whirled to face Harry, his jaw clenched as an expression of disbelief flickered across his face. "Erm…Harry? You are aware that there's a bruised and battered ferret hogging your bed, right? I've not gone completely mental, have I?"_

_Now:_

An extremely awkward silence fell upon the room then, various coloured eyes darting around the room as if they were unsure of where it was safest to focus their gaze. Ron's complexion seemed to be rapidly transforming through the entire colour spectrum, ranging from the pale white it had started at upon seeing Draco, to green and then red, and now was settled on a rather peculiar shade of pink, indicating a continuously fluctuating temper. Knowing Ron all too well, and that it wouldn't be very long at all before he exploded, Hermione placed a gentle hand upon his forearm and berated him gently, yet firmly, "Ronald! Don't be mean. It's obvious that Harry is helping him out – even you can see the state that Malfoy's in, right?"

"E-even me?" The red-head spluttered indignantly, focusing his attentions on Hermione now, his anger at the others momentarily forgotten. "And what's that supposed to me?"

"Oh nothing. I just don't want you angry, okay? Let Harry deal with Malfoy in his own way." Hermione continued in a soothing tone, her fingers curling around Ron's freckled wrist in an attempt to placate him.

Sighing despondently, Ron gazed at Harry and cocked his head to the side, throwing his arms out in a helpless shrug. "Harry? What's going on?" He murmured, almost regressing back to his early childhood with the doubtful sound of his now soft voice.

Gesturing in a series of complicated hand gestures that he would tell them everything later, he shooed them out of the room before turning back to Draco once the door had closed. He very much doubted that the blonde would want to continue their previous conversation, but it couldn't hurt to try, Harry mused with a wry grin. "…Draco?"

Silence met his question, and to be honest, Harry didn't expect anything else from the prickly blonde. After a further moment of quiet, Draco rolled over onto his side with his back to Harry, cocooning his frail body in a tangled mass of blankets, to the point where only his blonde tufts of hair were visible at the very top of the sheets.

"Alright…I'll be back later. Call me if you need anything." He murmured and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar once more. Shuffling into the living-room, he eyed his friends warily when he saw the two of them perched on the large sofa, clearly awaiting his explanation. Fishing for the right words, he finally settled on a not-so-eloquent, "…Erm."

A snort of laughter from Ron met his words, before his best friend shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to control himself. "Harry." He stated then, locking eyes with the darker-haired male. "What's going on? Why's he here?"

Sighing, Harry plonked down onto the nearest armchair and sprawled out, clearly stalling for time before he decided to go with it. After all, planning never achieved much in his life – he was more of the spur-of-the-moment type. "He's…erm…living with me. I went to his house and I…well…I took him."

"You _took _him?" Hermione's eyebrows arched simultaneously – a feat which caused much jealously in Harry. The very expression was quite admirable and made Harry look extremely ridiculous when he tried to imitate her. "From Zabini? How on earth did you manage that?"

"Zabini? As in Blaise Zabini?" Ron blinked, looking quite bewildered at their current conversation.

"Yes. I met Dr- Malfoy in a café a while back and I just got this feeling…and then I got a letter from him asking me to help him, and I just couldn't leave him there, you guys!" He burst out with enthusiasm, waving his hands about to emphasise his point. "And when I got there, I…it was the worst thing I've ever seen. The place was torn apart and the blood…he was a mess, Ron. He was bashed in, broken bones and there was so much blood…I thought that he was…" His voice cracked and he shoved aside the absurdity of that, knowing that anyone else would have reacted the same way in that situation, even Ron.

Speaking of which, Ron's eyes had bulged and his jaw dropped, a look of horrified disgust flickering across his face. "Zabini hurt him?" He whispered softly, and Harry was pleased to note that he too seemed livid about Zabini's actions, rather than mocking Draco's so-called weakness like he'd expected him to. "For how long?"

Hermione kissed Ron's cheek, clearly on the same thought pattern as Harry, the act distracting him for a moment. Blinking and shaking his head to focus on the current conversation once more, he shrugged. "I've no idea – a long time, I'd guess. It's like…he was conditioned to obey everything that Zabini was saying – I saw them at the club. He looked so uncomfortable and as much as we hated each other at school, I'd like to think that we've all grown up now."

"He's moved from one Master to another," Hermione whispered, looking sick to her stomach at the very thought of what Draco had been experiencing this last little while, "From Voldemort to Zabini and they've both marked his skin in the most horrific of ways...Harry, we have to do something! We have to...we have to tell someone important, perhaps the Minister?"

Recognizing Hermione's desire to help the less unfortunate, Ron reached for her and curled his fingers with hers, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "'Mione...no offense to your brilliant mind, but the Minister won't care. Neither will any of the Aurors - he's a Malfoy and an ex-Death Eater. Zabini was carefully neutral throughout the battle, but there will be some sick bastards who'll claim that Draco deserves this-"

Through the wall, a blonde figure was trembling violently, rocking himself back and forth in his protective cocoon of blankets, Weasley's words slamming into him like Blaise's fists had on many occasion, leaving him to wonder whether or not everything was his fault. It had been one hardship after another in his life, and somehow, he had avoided the damning fate of being sent to Azkaban, and he had previously believed that he must have possessed some luck in order to carry that off. Now, Weasley's words struck a nerve and Draco couldn't help but think that _this _was to be his punishment, to be broken and battered all the time, never knowing when the next hit or bruise was coming, to never experience love. Because despite his upbringing and the traditions he had to keep - Draco desperately wanted love, and he never believed he would achieve it.

He was jarred out of his morbid thoughts by Potter uttering a rather shocking curse, followed by an indignant "HARRY!" which could only have come from the Mu- from Granger. Potter then continued in a soft voice, yet his words permeated through the thin walls to Draco's ears. "But that's ridiculous! Nobody deserves that! Draco deserves to be hit about as much as I deserved to be neglected by the Dursleys! And the stupid blonde prat won't properly admit to it or ask for help, so what am I supposed to do, Hermione? What can I do to help him?"

~/~

A few hours later and night had fallen, both Hermione and Ron having had made their excuses and flooed to their own home, leaving Harry the sole carer of a prickly victim of domestic abuse, with no way of knowing how to make everything better. Harry was a pro at fixing his own aches and pains (the physical ones, that is), but not since his Hogwarts days had he been faced with such a challenge as this, and he knew that he wanted to see this one out to the end.

Casting out a despondent sigh, the dark-haired male hauled himself to his feet and trotted aimlessly about the room, tidying for the sake of something to do, before deciding that he had wasted quite enough time and now, there was only one thing left to do before he could retire to his own bed for the night. Checking on Draco. He had put it off immediately after his friends departure, figuring that Draco might as well rest whilst he could, for no matter what the future brought, it wouldn't be easy. Harry sorely hoped that he could convince him to stay and thus not return to Blaise, but he knew he didn't have that power, and when had Draco ever listened to him really?

A soft pained noise filtering through the slightly ajar door there caused him to tense and remain still, wondering whether or not he should enter, before a gurgled cry left him with no other option. He barged straight into the room to see the painfully thin blonde thrashing violently on the bed, sweat plastering his hair to his head as he tangled himself in the sheets, sobbing and screaming.

"DRACO!"

~/~

_"Blaise?" Draco breathed out softly and curled up, pillowing his head on his boyfriend's lap, his long fingers splayed out on the taught muscled thigh. "Do you really love me?"_

_Said boyfriend's dark eyes widened and he glanced downwards, his expression softening as he gazed at the purpling skin around Draco's eye, wallowing in a pit of self-hatred because he was the one who had put that mark on the beautiful body held in his hands. "Of course I do." He breathed out, fearing that he had hesitated for too long, his fingers carding through Draco's hair in a desperate attempt to brush away all of his worries. "Why do you ask?"_

_"Mother says that two men can't love each other, that it's unnatural and that I have my duty as a Malfoy to uphold." Here, the blonde's facial features twisted into an expression of pure disgust, as if the very notion of procreating purely to create a family, and with a woman nonetheless was a very horrible idea indeed. "But you do love me, don't you?"_

_"Of course I do, Draco." Blaise repeated with some exasperation mingled with rather a lot of fondness. He knew how Draco's family worked and despite the blonde's complaints, he was desperate to please his parents, but he would never please Blaise - and this was knowledge that would benefit him in the future of their relationship. "Just ignore her, alright? There's nothing wrong about our love."_

_He then proceeded to show Draco just how much he loved him._

~/~

_"You stupid fucker! What did I tell you about burning dinner? Are you completely incompetent or do you just like to make me angry?" Blaise howled with an imposing rage, his voice cracking as he raised his fist, the thump of skin against skin echoing around the room followed by pain-filled cries and babbled apologies._

~/~

_Dear Mother,_

_Yes, I am well and happy - there's no need to worry about me, I'm absolutely fine. No, I have not yet found a job but I'm working well in order to bring our name back up to one that is respectable in Wizarding society; just have faith and it won't be long at all until you can return back to the Manor._

_How is Father, back the way? I can't imagine him taking too well to the climate in France, but then again, he has surprised me before._

_Yes, I am seeing Blaise still, Mother. And no, I do not want set up with any 'respectable young ladies' that are daughters of your friends. Do you honestly believe that anybody would want to marry me after everything that our family did before and during the war, Mother? And I don't 'swing that way', much to your delight I am sure._

_I'm tired of living up to your expectations, Mother, just let me be Draco, rather than an Malfoy, please?_

_All my love,_

_Draco._

_~/~_

Harry gazed at the other male thrashing on the bed with increasing concern and an expression of pure terror etched upon his face. What was he to do? He remembered from somewhere that it wasn't a very good idea to wake someone during a nightmare but the very sight before him was painful to watch and thrashing around like that on the bed couldn't be good for Draco at all. It was with some trepidation then that he took a step forward and reached out, placing a hand on the blonde's bony shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"DRACO!"

~/~

_"DRACO! Where are you, love?" Blaise called out as he apparated into the living-room, frowning deeply as he found it absent of his lover and of any signs of love whatsoever. "Draco?"_

_"In here!" A faint voice called out from the bedroom, the tingling voice resonating around the room and calling Blaise forwards like a Siren's song. Slipping around the slightly ajar door, he let out a guttural moan at the sight of his boyfriend lying on the bed like a buffet to be feasted on, bare of anything apart from some carefully placed whipped cream and cherries. "Bloody hell, Draco!" He whimpered and shimmied out of his clothes before launching onto the bed and prowling towards his lover like a predator to its prey, licking his lips as he gazed upon the other male spread out for him alone. "Such a slut for me, aren't you, Draco? So greedy and all mine?" He cooed lovingly and within moments, the thin blonde was shackled to the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gazed up with impossibly wide eyes._

_~/~_

"Draco!" Harry hissed with desperation, not entirely sure whether or not he wanted to awaken the other male, seeing him thrashing so violently in his tangled of sweat-sodden sheets. "DRACO! You wake up right this instant or...or..." He trailed off then, seeing a pair of terrified silver eyes latch onto him, their owner trembling as he gazed at Harry with pure terror - a look which Harry never wanted to see directed towards him. Determined to placate and soothe the prickly blonde, Harry crouched down to make himself lower than Malfoy, leaving his hands outstretched to show him that he wasn't dangerous and that he wouldn't hurt him at all.

Draco, meanwhile, was still caught up in the remnants of his flood of memories, a mix of good and bad, leaving him completely and utterly confused, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "You..." He began and then faltered, licking at his lips as he wiped at the tears clinging to his nearly invisible eyelashes, falling silent once more.

"You were having a bad dream, Draco." Harry explained softly, trying not to anger or agitate him further for Merlin knew what effect that would have on the injuries left on his broken body. "I had to wake you before you hurt yourself. Would...do you want a glass of water?"

Draco nodded jerkily, before doubling over and burying his face in his hands, rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "I...I didn't mean to..." He trailed off and grimaced, his face twisting with what appeared to be embarrassment and exhaustion, the former of which such a new expression on the other male's face that it astounded Harry for a mere moment, before he quickly nodded.

"I understand, Mal-Draco. Believe me - I have my nightmares too, and put it this way...if you didn't have nightmares after everything...then I'd be kind of worried." He shrugged and slowly stood up, pointedly ignoring the flinch that escaped Draco at the innocent reaction, before heading towards the door. "Oh. Is there...um...anyone else you want me to call for you? Your parents, maybe?"

Draco was already shaking his head as the words spilled from Harry's lips and he too, slowly straightened up, making to extricated himself from the sheets before realising that all he had on were some boxers. Seeing his cheeks already turning pink, Harry quickly passed him over a dressing gown and then averted his eyes, allowing him at least a little privacy, to which Draco was quite grateful for.

Moments later, the two boys could be found curled up in front of the fireplace, both gazing longingly at the flickering flames as the welcomed warmth washed over their skins and caused them to relax for the first time in a long time. Instead of the original glass of water that Harry had originally offered, he had decided instead to go with it and just make two steaming cups of hot chocolate complete with a large slab of Victoria Sponge cake - he was half-starved and Merlin knew that Draco could do with some fattening up. They sat in a comfortable silence, eating and drinking their fill of the delicious treats, uncaring that crumbs were scattering across the faded rug that Harry had bought recently, knowing that he would get around to cleaning them up some time later. For now, this was perfect - just sitting here and eventually, they might force themselves to escape to their own bedrooms to catch a few hours of sleep. But not yet - they weren't ready to leave the security that the haven of the fireplace offered in the early hours of the morning.

And then, quite suddenly, a loud _whoosh_ing noise sounded out, causing Harry to curse quite loudly and Draco to drop his cup of chocolate on the floor and hunch in on himself. Mere seconds later, a familiar bushy head appeared through the flames, followed by the torso of Hermione Granger who had a rather strange expression on her face. A rolled up newspaper was tucked on her arm and brown eyes darted between the two males in front of her with some hesitance. Seeming unable to stand there in the tense silence a moment longer, she passed the paper over to Harry with a muttered apology, causing him to frown and unfold it, before feeling like his heart had stopped at the words stamped almost cruelly across the front page:

**MALFOY HEIR MISSING - FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED. LOVER WORRIED AND SEEKING ANSWERS.**

written by Rita Skeeter.

It has been a long while since the darker half of the Wizarding community has graced our beloved _Prophet_'s pages with their presence, what with the last of the trials over not too long ago and we had welcomed this peaceful respite, wallowing in the comfort that we were now safe, as a nation, from the harm that could only be inflicted by the Death Eaters and their families.

But it seems it was all for nothing, for chaos is rife within the Wizarding world once more - but then...should we be overly concerned? If it is simple revenge of someone taking their frustrations out on the families of Death Eaters, then should we bother to intervene?

And here's why I, my esteemed readers, feel that we should not get involved in this particular case. But before I allow you to form your own opinions, I shall reveal to you all the facts - true as I know them to be through a variety of anonymous sources and my own keen eyes.

In the late hours of yesterday evening, Blaise Zabini - ex student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding sent an owl to Head Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, claiming that his lover, Draco Malfoy, had simply vanished off the face of the earth, whereabouts obviously unknown. He had stated that they had had a minor disagreement and he had left to cool his temper, and when he'd returned hours later, the flat was empty, yet all of Malfoy's belongings were still there. A reluctant Zabini allowed myself in to view the flat, after the Aurors had finished and I was pleased to note a well-maintained and tidy flat, despite questioning the neighbours later on to reveal that there were a series of fights on a regular basis coming from the Malfoy-Zabini residence. Upon further analysis, Zabini seemed calm at first, although I sensed a deep panic emitting from him - clear to me, my dear readers, that he is deeply concerned about his lover and will strive at nothing to get some answers.

He said to me this: "Tell Draco that I love him and miss him greatly. Just come home, Drake? It's not the same without you, and we can talk about this. You're mine, Draco, and I love you so much."

Sad words from an equally sad man.

If you have any information on the case, please send an owl to Kingsley Shacklebolt (address on the back page), or indeed inform your nearest Auror. Although I refuse to intervene too much in this case, at the moment, it is a criminal investigation.

_Homosexual Wizards: Normal or abnormal? A poll and a discussion from various members of authority and the public- see pages 2 and 3._

_Malfoy - a story. Who is the fallen blonde aristocrat? - see page 4._

_Zabini - a lover worried or in it for the money? What's left of it. - see page 5._

Harry simply gazed at the paper in shock, feeling Draco peering over his shoulder and then wincing when he heard his breath hitch painfully behind him.

**A/N ****-cackles manically and then whistles innocently - Hey there. Um...sorry about the other cliff-hanger? I mean, I'm not really, but it's only polite to say, after all, isn't it? Again, sorry about the wait between chapters! x**


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